


желание

by kalewrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Feels, Bucky is a tease, Bucky is romantic, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fingerfucking, Jealous Bucky, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Smut, Swearing, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Unresolved Sexual Tension, cuddling with bucky, in his own way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7369933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalewrites/pseuds/kalewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had drafted Bucky in to help with your training, not knowing you had feelings for him. Feelings? Ok, you were attracted to the man. Insanely so.</p>
<p>And he hated you. Or at least that's what you think, but is there more going on than you realise?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

A sheen of sweat covered you as threw yourself out of the way of the fist flying at your face. A second too late, you noticed a leg sweeping round, stealing your balance and you hit the mat hard, a wall of muscle following you and securing your hands above your head. 

“Again.” Steve ordered from his position at the sidelines. “I’m gonna go get some sparring gloves. Be back in a sec.”

You watch Steve retreat into the storage cupboard before looking up at the hulking mass of muscle still straddling your legs and pinning your arms. You watch as a single bead of sweat rolls down his neck, disappearing under his t-shirt. His gaze is hard as he watches you. This is how it always is with him, distant, cautious.

“Bucky…” You tap your fingers on the hand pinning your wrists. His face twitches before settling on a frown. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles, gaze averted as he releases you and rolls off of you.. You watch him as he gets to his feet, muscles flexing under the tight grey t-shirt he has on. The tension in him was evident. You didn’t know why, but this is how he had been since Steve had asked him to help train you. Almost no direct interaction with you and certainly not on the rare moments Steve left you alone together.

You get to your feet and you both begin the sparring sequence again. Dodge, roll, kick, dodge, punch. He manages to unbalance you two more times, but unlike last time he doesn’t pin you. In fact he stays a very safe distance from you at all times. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. At this point, it was starting to be offensive and you’d just about had enough of it.

“Why do you do that?” You blurt out before your brain catches up. His eyebrows jump up his face, started at your outburst, the sound echoing slightly in the empty gym. Confusion settles over his face. This time you do roll your eyes.

“This…” You gesture to the enormity of space between you. “You agreed to help train me. Why? It’s clear you can’t stand to be near me. And you kinda need to be to actually train me.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times like he isn’t sure what to say. His expression is careful. Not neutral, but you aren’t quite sure what it is. You never can tell the difference between fear and anger on him. You suspect it’s an automatic response leftover from his HYDRA days.

“It’s not that I… I don’t hate you.” He isn’t denying it then. Good. He turns his back to you, running a hand through his hair. He does that when he’s nervous. Not that you’d paid close enough attention to him to notice that kind of thing of course. Not. At. All. 

“Then what?” You demand. The adrenaline from sparring courses through you, make you shake a little and heightening your emotions.

“Just leave it alone Y/N.” His voice is almost a whisper. He turns to face you, his face pleading. He almost looks like…he’s in pain.

Your mind races through scenarios of what possible reasons he could have, why he appeared to be struggling with it so much. One thing came to mind. 

Hydra. 

Guilt flooded you. Shit.ou were making it about yourself, but what if it wasn’t. He’d been through so much, done so much; you could only imagine how that fucked with his mind.

“I-I…B-Bucky…I can’t begin to imagine the things…” you began, slowly walking towards him. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, “HYDRA…”

He takes an involuntary step towards you leaving just a fraction of space, “You think this is about them?” He growls, the anger in his voice is evident and his features contort in rage. 

Well at least you now know what he looks like angry. 

You are close enough to him that you can feel the heat rolling off him. Close enough that even a deep breath will brush your chest against his. Tempting. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Steve asks concern clearly etched on his face 

Neither you nor Bucky had noticed him coming back into the room having been too focused on each other. Bucky immediately puts some space between you and you sigh internally. If it wasn’t about HYDRA then what was it about? He wasn’t exactly touchy feely with anyone else, but with you he was extra distant. At least physically. 

“Of course not. Just sparring.” Your voice is a little shaky and you pray Steve doesn’t call you on it. 

He glances between the two of you for a minute before deciding not to press the matter. You spend the next few hours training trying desperately to forget about the almost conversation between you and Bucky. 

When Steve finally calls it for the day, you practically sprint from the room hoping to avoid any awkward conversations with either of them. You take a quick shower before finally collapsing into bed, completely spent from all training; it isn’t long before you’re fast asleep. 

You find yourself awake a few hours later, confused and annoyed, not quite sure what had woken you. You glance around the dark room but find nothing suspicious. Then you hear it, soft knocking on your room door. Whoever that is better had a damn good reason for waking you up…or tacos. Either way, you were pissed. You get up and drag yourself to the door, swinging it open with more force than you mean to and making your unsuspecting visitor jump about a foot in the air. 

“Bucky?” you squint at him, the darkness obscuring his features, “What are you doing here?”

“I..I just…I don’t know” His voice is low, but you can still hear the pain in this tone. Something was clearly eating at him and you felt your heart constrict a little. You held the door open and gestured for him to come in, closing the door behind you. You wait a few seconds, hoping for more of an explanation, but it’s clear he’s not going to offer much. You walk over and perch on the side of your bed, hoping a little space will help. 

His body language is tense, his fists clenching almost involuntarily, 

“Are you okay?” you whisper, almost afraid to spook him. 

“I couldn’t sleep…nightmare” he murmurs and in that one sentence your heart shatters for him.  
A nightmare probably doesn’t even cover it. You’d read the files on what HYDRA did to Bucky, what they made him do, so you knew it was bad. Horrific, actually. You just didn’t know what to say, or how to help him. You’d seen your fair share of shitty things and had experienced enough nightmares to know that nothing really helps. Well nothing, except…company.

“Do you want to maybe sleep here tonight? That always helped me. The company I mean.” You offer. You had no idea what was going on with him. One minute he’s acting like one touch from you might set him on fire the next he’s in your room at 3am looking for god knows what but you weren’t about to send him away. He clearly needed…something. And if you being honest with yourself having Bucky in your room was giving you all sorts of feelings you were desperately trying to ignore. 

He nods, ever so slightly, and you release the breath you’d been holding. Standing up, you carefully make your way over to him and take his hand leading him over to the bed. He follows you compliantly and climbs in after you. You’d half expected him to argue with you, or leave, but for once he seemed content to follow your lead. Shuffling to a more comfortable position, you made sure to leave a suitable gap between you, knowing how he felt about space. 

Cold fingers wrap around your waist and pull you flush against him, before the weight of his heavy arm wraps around you. You gasp a little, clearly surprised he wants to be this close to you. I suppose comfort is comfort, no matter who's giving it. You try to relax, knowing he will feel the tension in you and read it completely wrong. He won’t realise that you are tense because having his hard chest pressed against your back is making you heart beat widely in your..chest. It’s making your thoughts drift to familiar scenarios that play on a loop in your head. Scenarios where there’s a lot less clothing and may or may not involve a certain metal arm. Or fingers. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers against the back of your neck, his breath causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin. 

You clear your throat a little, attempting to find your voice, “Mmm hmm, s’fine”. 

You will yourself to relax and take a few calming breathes. You can do this. You hope. 

You listen to the sound of Bucky’s breathing and before long it's deep and even and you know he’s sleeping. It’s not long before your following suit, the comfort of having a warm body next to you pulling you under.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you wake up in Bucky's arms?

You wake the next morning, a little disorientated, with a heavy weight across your waist and what appears to be a furnace plastered to your back. It takes a few seconds to recall the events of the night before.

Bucky.

Jesus fucking Christ the heat coming off this man was insane; hotter than the 9th circle of hell. You could feel the heat of his breaths on the back of your neck, his head buried in your mass of hair. 

Attempting to pull yourself from his tight grasp, you grip his arm and give a gentle pull, hoping you don’t wake him. Which is about as successful as toddler pulling a car.

Opting for another route, you kick the covers off you, basking in the cool air now caressing your skin. You let out a breath of relief before closing your eyes again deciding you may as well get some sleep since you clearly weren’t going anywhere until Bucky woke up. Which was another issue entirely? Where you gonna talk about last night at all? Why did he come to you?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a gravelly voice, thick with sleep.

“Sorry, the serum makes me burn at a higher temperature…” 

You startle a little at the sound of his voice. He rolls away from you and the relief you should feel isn’t present. Instead there are just hints of regret and longing and thoughts you desperately try to bury. You feel the bed dip as he sits up, and you roll over onto your back. You can’t help but stare at the way his t-shirt stretches over his shoulders and back.

“I should go…” sounding more like he’s talking to himself than you. He rolls his shoulders a little before standing and making his way to your door. It’s at this point you realise you still haven’t uttered a word to him.  
“B-Bucky? Should we…?”

He stills, immediately going tense and you instantly regret saying anything. Whatever last night was, it was progress and the last thing you wanted was for that to count for nothing. He puts his hand on the door handle and you think he’s going to leave without saying anything before you head a faint whisper. So faint, if you hadn’t been holding your breath you doubt you’d heard it

“Thank you.”

As the door closes softly behind him you lie on your bed contemplating what had just happened. 

Later, you venture down to the kitchen in the hopes of grabbing something quick to eat before Steve finds you and makes you train some more. You were distracted yesterday, and he noticed. 

He’s likely to double your sets today and that thought alone has your muscles groaning. Your hanging off the fridge door, stuffing a leftover pizza slice into your mouth when a large hand grabs your shoulder

“That’s hardly a good pre-workout meal, Y/N” Steve’s disapproval evident in his ‘Dad voice’ making you yelp a little and drop your pizza slice.

“Dammit Steve, that was the last one!” you groan before bending down to pick it up; tossing it away before dipping back into the fridge.

“Well, after yesterday’s performance you should really be having a better breakfast. “ This time you can’t contain the eye roll. You knew it was coming, but it didn’t stop you being annoyed. “What was with you anyways? You’re never that distracted”

“Nothing…” your voice muffled around the noodles you were now stuffing into your mouth from a Chinese container, “I was just tired?”

“Did it have anything to do with Bucky?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at you

“W-What do you mean?” You stutter, heart suddenly beating wildly in your chest. He can’t know.

“You guys looked like you were about to beat the crap outta each other when I walked in.” He explained,” You need me to talk to him? He just needs some time to settle in.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Even you can hear the way your voice his risen an octave or two

“What’s nothing to talk about?” Natasha asks suddenly appearing behind Steve

“Y/N and Bucky looking like they wanna punch each other during training yesterday” Steve explains before you get a chance answer

“Fine line between hate and heat…” Nat smirks at you, “all that tension's gotta go somewhere Y/N”

You groan and wipe a hand down your face, “Seriously Nat, can you not?”

“Hey I’m just saying…plus have you seen Bucky, now that’s a face I wouldn’t mind si-“cutting herself off, her eyes light up as she glances over your shoulder.

Please god no, not now. You knew it was him before you even turned around. Glancing back, sure enough there was Bucky, showing about four different expressions at once. You busy yourself picking at the Chinese carton in your hand, desperately trying to hide the heat on your face.

“Hey Buck.” And you thank the high heavens for Steve fucking Rogers. “Where were you this morning? I came by your room to get you for our morning run”

Did you say thank them, you mean curse them. Curse Steve for noticing everything. You peek up at Bucky wondering how he was going to answer.

“I uh, I went out myself.” Running a hand through his hair, he’s unable to stop his eyes flitting to you quickly before back to Steve. You hold your breath waiting to see if he buys it, if he noticed the look. You certainly had. You felt it.

“Okay cool. Next time just come by and get me. I need to run with someone who can actually keep up.” He laughs before elbowing you in the side, clearly impressed with his insult. God he was such a dork at times. 

They slipped into an easy conversation and you quietly slip out of the room. Opting to spend the rest of the day training, you manage to avoid Bucky for the entire day. You try to convince yourself that was a good thing. You seriously had to get over this thing, this crush, on Bucky. You stopped denying it a while ago, after you’d accidentally walked in on him training shirtless. Yeah, after that you knew there was absolutely no denying it any more, but that doesn't mean you have to be happy about it. God, the man was infuriating. So hot and cold. Mostly cold if you were being really honest with yourself there. 

Back in your room, you quickly shower before getting ready for bed. Taking a little extra time to moisturise before slipping on your silk PJ’s you tell yourself it's for you and you only. Absolutely not incase you have a midnight visitor again. No. Definitely not. 

You lie awake for a while, shifting to get comfortable but never quite reaching it. After what seems like an age, your eyelids get heavy and you find yourself being pulled into a deep sleep.

A soft click has you waking a short while later, before the bed dips and a heavy weight falls in beside you. Acting on instinct alone your fist automatically flies out meeting something hard whilst your brain fights to catch up. 

“Fuck, Y/N, it’s me!” Bucky's gravelly voice instantly soothing your thundering heart, which was attempting to climb up your throat at this precise moment 

“Bucky? Shit, I’m sorry!” You blink, trying to adjust to the darkness as you sit up, “God, didn't you never learn not to sneak into a girl's bed. I could've hurt you”

“M’sorry” his voice a little muffled now, “but you could never actually hurt me” he laughs a little

Great, he was mocking you now. Scrambling for your phone, you quickly flip the torch light on and set it down so you can see him a bit better. He blinks a few times as the light hits his eyes, his hand swiping his mouth but not before you seen the little trickle of blood on his lip.

“You're bleeding”, You gasp and scoot forward so you can get a better look at his lip, reaching out a hand and cupping his face slightly. It’s not bad, just a slight split lip. Such a shame though, those lips were so sinfully perfect. 

The scratchiness of his unshaven scruff on your hand pulls you back to the moment and you suddenly realise how close you are. Breaths mingling, you take a deep breath to ground yourself but it only fills you with his intoxicating scent. Your hearts hammering again, this time for a whole new reason. His metal hand closes around your wrist, and you drag your eyes up to meet his. So expressive, so much pain, shining back at you. Your eyes flit to his lips again, instinctively. 

Bucky clears his throat and casts his eyes down, lifting the spell. You drop your hand from his face abruptly, inwardly cursing yourself. 

“Uh, it’s fine. I probably deserved it. Shouldn't sneak up on a lady n all that” his voice is a little scratchy, like he hasn't drank water in days. 

You scoff under your breath at his insinuation you're a lady, but decide not to call him on that. You scoot over to make room for him whilst turning the light on your phone off again, thankful he can no longer see the burning of your cheeks. You feel him settle in next to you, getting comfortable. 

Rolling over so that you're facing away from him, you pull the covers up around you and take a few calming breaths. God, you had been so close to just kissing him, consequences be damned. And he knew it. He had to know it. God, you were such an idiot at times. You lie there for a while, listening to the sounds of Bucky's breathing. You weren't really used to sleeping next to someone, it was a little weird but oddly comforting. Long after you think he’s asleep, you hear a sigh before an arm is wrapping around you and tucking you tight against him. Satisfied that you're settled in, he slides his legs under up against yours and within a few minutes he's fast asleep. 

When you wake the next morning, you're a tangle of sweaty limbs and blankets. At some point during the night you must have rolled over and were now nestled into Bucky's chest, his metal arm wrapped around you, hand dipping under your vest slightly, fingers splaying over your back. The metal feels soothingly cool against your hot skin. 

You lift your head slightly, and move it down into the hard metal of his shoulder, the bite of the cold a welcome relief. He wasnt kidding when he said he burned hotter. Holy shit he was hotter than the sun! If he was going to sleep in here again, you were gonna have to change to a lighter blanket. 

You glance up at his face, only to find him watching you, expression carefully neutral. 

“Um, yeah, you seemed hot so I…” He gestures to the arm tucked around you with his other

“Oh. Uh, thank you. You are ridiculously hot!” you blurt it out and have about 0.5 seconds before your face falls in regret. Bucky just smirks at you a little and you think this might be the first time he’s ever even remotely smiled at you. 

You push yourself up off him and attempt to pull your hair out of your face, strands sticking to your neck. Glancing back down at Bucky, you notice his eyes are fixated on your neck. You can feel a bead of sweat work it's way down your throat and into your cleavage and you watch his eyes track its movements whilst he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. Good. He isn't as unaffected as he seems then. 

He closes his eye for a beat before leaping up off the bed and practically sprinting to the door. You don't even get to utter a word before its closing behind him.


	3. Part Three

It becomes your routine. Cold and distant Bucky right until he climbs into your bed each night. You mostly don't speak anymore, the only interaction with him when he tucks you tight against him each night. He leaves before you wake now. You think you understand, sort of. How long he went without any human affection, any comfort, is what drives him to you each night. The nightmares probably amplifying the need, his brain pushing him away each morning, back to being guarded and distrustful. You never question him though, for fear he won't come back. But it's taking its toll on you, these feelings you have for him, and being pressed against his hard lines of muscle every night with no relief. Your nerves were fraught and you were on edge more often than not. It was bleeding into your performance on missions and into your relationships with the team. Sexual frustration was a bitch,apparently, and Nat was more than happy to point that out. 

 

A few weeks later, you entered the kitchen to see Natasha eating, what appeared to be a bowl of leaves.

“That looks disgusting.” You wrinkle your nose at her, grabbing a jar of Nutella from the cupboard, quickly dipping in your spoon and eating it like it's ice cream. 

“Says the woman eating Nutella out of the jar for lunch. Honestly, how can you stand it?” Her look of disgust says it all. 

“Happily.” You reply deliberately pulling an extra large spoon from the jar. Setting down the jar you disappear into the fridge in search of something else, finding a leftover burrito and some chicken bites. Balancing them all carefully, you attempt to turn and retreat to your room for the afternoon when the burrito slips and lands at Nat's feet. 

“Dammit!” Slamming the rest of the food on the counter, you quickly bend down to swipe it off the floor checking it over and finding it's still fully intact and in the wrapper.

Still huffing, you run a hand through your hair feeling way too stressed out considering it was just a burrito, and notice Nat giving you her signature cocked eyebrow.

She whistles low, “Damn Y/N, you need to get laaaaiiidd” chuckles at your obvious state of distress

“God, I know.” You laugh,then hearing an abrupt choking and spluttering from the couch over in the lounge area. 

Bucky is now standing and walking towards the kitchen, still coughing as he goes but avoiding eye contact with you both completely. 

Shit. Shit. Seriously, again? Your face warms.You risk a peek at Nat who is about 3 seconds away from cracking up completely. 

Bucky gasps down water straight from the tap attempting to clear his throat, watching you grab up the rest of the food and hightail it out the door. You're only half way when Nat loses it, her sultry chuckles chasing you to the safety of your bedroom. You can only imagine how bad her taunting would be if she knew the reason for your current ‘state’. Although it's not like she hasn't made at eyes at you before when she's caught you practically eye-fucking Bucky. As an assassin, she doesn't really miss much. You hide away for the remainder of the afternoon, comfort eating your embarrassment away and binge watching Game of Thrones. Around 6pm, Steve comes to get you for some training. 

“We're gonna try something a little different today, Y/N.” He explains, walking you into the gym. Your stomach falls to your toes when you see Bucky already waiting. Great, of-fucking-course Steve wants Bucky to help today. You loved Steve like a brother, but right now you wanted to punch him in his stupid, perfect face. 

“You need to learn to fight without your eyes. You need to be prepared for anything out in the field. Bucky is better at this than me so I asked him to help out. I'm gonna use Tony's night vision glasses to observe and help.” You try to pay attention, you really do, but you can't help nervously glancing again Bucky every two seconds. 

Training with Bucky.

In the dark.

Sure. 

Steve disappears to turn off the lights and for a few seconds Bucky meets your gaze. His eyes are dark, intense, as he watches you. You feel that pull, that need, for him and swallow loudly.

Then it's black. Nothing. Complete silence and your heart responds almost like it's trying to fill the silence; a song of fear and longing. 

“Feeling tense, Doll?” Bucky's raspy voice dances around you causing you to jump. Shit he was close. 

Was he- was he mocking you? Your mind immediately remember the conversation he'd overheard earlier today. A small surge of anger fills you with false bravado. 

“Like you don't know.” You spit back at him, the darkness adding to your already frayed nerves. 

He laughs softly from behind you, and it wraps around you like a blanket. He's circling you, teasing you. You can feel the heat of him pushing at your back and you freeze, and then there's just the faintest touch, a ghost of a touch on the soft skin of space between your neck and shoulder. So faint you're not even sure it was real, but the tingling of your skin says otherwise. 

Was that, d-did he just kiss you? 

Your heart tries to escape from your chest and up through your mouth, thready and erratic. 

Yet again, Steve I-Have-Impeccable-Timing Rogers appears and the heat at your back disappears in an instant. 

Training is long and intense. Drill after drill Steve makes you do until you're anticipating Bucky's moves and even managing to dodge a couple. Everything is heightened, senses overwrought with concentration and there's no doubt that this was a mental workout as much as a physical one. Especially the mental restraint shown every time Bucky has pinned you. Something about the darkness makes the bite of his fingers on your wrist that much more delicious. 

“Apologies for interrupting, Captain, but Mr Stark has requested to speak with you immediately.” FRIDAY’s voice cuts through the silence. 

“Okay, FRIDAY, I'm on my way up.” Steve calls back, his footsteps sounding distant, “Keep going guys, I'll be back as soon as I can.”

A sliver of light cuts through the darkness for enough time for you to mentally map Bucky's location before the door slams shut and the darkness engulfs you again. Your heart hammers, both from the exhaustion and the knowledge that you and Bucky are alone now. In the dark. Did you mention alone? Fuck.

The silence opens up between you, like a living thing, suffocating. You listen intently, straining for something, but all you hear is the quick thrum of your heart and the faint buzzing in your ears from the surging adrenaline. 

Air whips past you and follow it, hands automatically raised in a fighting stance, shaking slightly from the adrenaline, and something else. You feel like prey, waiting for the strike. Air whips again. 

He’s circling you. 

It may be the intensity of the darkness, or the pressure of these last few weeks but something inside you snaps in that moment. A simmering rage wells up inside you

“Are you about done torturing me?” You spit, surprising even yourself at the venom in your tone.

Silence

“I think it's been made perfectly fucking clear what you're doing to me, James.” His name wielded like a weapon. “I’ve had enough of the games. The hot and cold.”

Suddenly he's there, crowding you with such force you stumble forward but you're quickly righted by the arm clamping around you. 

“My name is Bucky.” His voice is pure danger. It echos in the darkness and hits you in your chest. 

“You think I’m playing games, Y/N?” He growls, voice throaty and deep, “You think I enjoy having no control over myself? How what little control I fought for over my mind is irrelevant when my body reacts the way it does to you?” 

Your breath hitches as he presses his nose to your neck, dragging it up to your jawline. You frantically try to process what he’s saying. 

“I hate it. This need I have. This longing.” 

Well shit. That was...unexpected. But not unwelcome. You're still shaking, but now it's different. Now its need. 

“Every single second I’m near you, it’s a struggle. A struggle to control myself. Do you know what that’s like? Even right now, every single fibre in me is desperate for me to fuck you against this wall until you only remember MY name.” 

You're pretty sure you’ve melted. In fact, the only reason you're still standing is because of the arm currently welded to you. You unconsciously shift and feel him pressed against your back. All of him. 

Well he’s certainly not lying about the fucking part. Your breaths are coming in short needy gasps now, his voice alone making you weak with need. 

“So, do it.” You whisper, throat dry and hoarse sounding. You’d be embarrassed at how desperate you sounded if you weren't so...well, desperate.

Just as you feel him tense, a red pulsing light circles the room and a wailing alarm sounds. 

God Fucking Dammit. 

The compound was under attack.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The compound is under attack

Senses were a fickle thing; a delicate balance of power play going on inside your brain every second of every day. It doesn't take a lot to overwhelm them really, a hard body pressed against you doing and saying things already causing a distinct lack of oxygen to your brain. Add in the alarm trigger and you're officially dazed. 

Everything slows down, becomes sharper, your brain already blocking out the shrill wailing of the alarm until there's just a calming silence in your head alongside from the pounding of your heart. Adrenaline floods your system setting your nerves on fire with anticipation. Bucky has maneuvered in front of you within the 0.2 seconds it took you to process what was happening. He looks back at you, his lips are moving but all you hear is the deep bass of your heartbeat. 

You blink---Once, Twice---and everything snaps back like an elastic band, focus narrowed to Bucky.

“What?” You yell over the wailing, gesturing to your ears.

“I said Comms are down. FRIDAY says it’s Hydra. East Wing entrance.” Knowing you can’t hear him, he leans in close, the warmth of his breath on your neck. Amidst all the noise and chaos, it makes your heart stumble. “Steve and Tony have it handled, we should start a sweep.”

You nod, following him towards the entrance of the gym, the only light still the pulsing red lights from the alarm creating an ominous effect on your retreat. 

Darkness. Red. Darkness. Red. Darkness.

This time when the red loops round there's three Hydra agents at the door and then it's a blur of limbs, bodies, and weapons. You’re suddenly grateful Steve chose today for your dark fighting training. Your attacker is cocky, he makes assumptions before he's even threw the first punch and it costs him. You use his body weight to flip him entirely, angling just so that gravity throws extra effort into the choke hold you have around his neck. He fights you, frantically, but you've trained with men twice his size and strength and you know how to lock in a hold. It takes a few moments, but you feel his muscles slacken, his arms drooping, finally passing out. 

Bucky is holding his own against the two men coming at him, deflecting the blows from their weapons with his arm easily, like he does it in his sleep. You stand for a second, watching him move, the muscles working in perfect sync with each other. He was beautiful, all hard lines and fierceness, and you are in awe. 

It takes one second for your mistake to be clear. One distinct sound, one distinct feeling; the distinct clink of cold gun pressing to the back of your head as it is cocked. The silence that follows is no longer just in your head. The alarm had stopped  
Bucky freezes instantly, you watch the color drain from his face. 

The voice from behind you, german, is calling out commands to his men. They separate and one heads your way, kicking your legs out from under you. Pain ricochets through your knees as they violently meet the concrete floors. 

“Please!” Bucky's voice desperate, “P-Please… don't hurt her.” 

“You're going to be our distraction, Sargent. You're going to get us out of here.”

The man closest to Bucky begins speaking and your blood runs cold. Anything, anything but this. 

“Желание”

“Ржавый“

Bucky’s face contorts in pain, his eyes meet yours and you see nothing but desperation. 

“No, not this…” He tenses, hands automatically clenching

Your captor grabs a handful of your hair and pulls your head back sharply, exposing your neck fully. He presses the gun to your jaw, the cold bite of the metal digging in so hard it's sure to leave a bruise tomorrow. If you make it till tomorrow that is.

Bucky stills. Defeated. Your heart shatters for him, and you whisper apologies he can't hear. Your eyes never leave his. 

“семнадцать.”

“Рассвет, печь, девять, добросердецный, Возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон”

It's a lifetime, and somehow no time at all. You witness it happen, the way his eyes go cold and dead. His stance changes. His face changes, void of any emotion. 

“Солдат?” Soldier?

“готовы соблюдать” Ready to comply. Bucky's voice is harsh and deep, every syllable is stabbing you in the gut. 

 

The Hydra agent exchanges a few words the Winter Solider, no longer your Bucky, before releasing you. He and the other agents rush out the door heading towards the West Gate. You assume that’s what they needed from Bucky: an escape route.

Shakily getting to your feet, Bucky comes racing towards you. He aims a swing at your head and you duck and roll, his arm missing your head with a fraction of an inch. So close you feel the air whip across your face. Shit, shit, shit.

You had no ideas what his orders were but assumedly, they had no qualms killing you. Fear pooled in the pit of your stomach. You had no idea how to snap him out of this, and he significantly outmatched you in hand-to-hand combat. 

The alarm had been off a while, you had to hope that the team were doing a sweep of the compound and would reach you before it was too late. 

You had to try.

“Bucky…please, it’s me. It’s Y/N.” Pleading with him as you dodge his punches, scrambling backwards, desperately trying to put some distance between you. His eyes flicker to yours briefly, a slight moment of confusion before back to the cold, lifeless ones of The Winter Soldier. 

Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe you could get through. 

“Bucky, you can fight this. You know me.”

Your back meets something hard for the second time tonight, except this time it is not a welcome meeting. Bucky's arm pulls back and drives towards you face, and you dodge and brace, not fully believing you got out of the way in time. His fist lodges in the concrete of the walls with a sickening thud. You don't even want to think about what that would have done to your face.

“Bucky! Y/N!” You barely hear Steve screams from the other side of the gym over the pounding of your heart, the distance between you may as well be an ocean. He’s running for you, propelling himself as fast as his muscles will work.

You never take your eyes off Bucky, taking the brief moment of distraction to drive a fist into the side of his head hoping against everything that this will work. You throw your whole body weight into it and feel your knuckles crunch in response. The pain is instant but secondary to the objective.

“Bucky… please…” Your voice is a whisper this time. He wavers slightly as he absorbs the impact and his eyes change. Pain dances across them, a tornado of emotion. He’s fighting this. 

“Wait!” You yell at Steve as he approaches. He hesitates but stays back, trusting that you know what you're doing. 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and yanks his arm from the wall, concrete cascading down the wall, pieces lodging in your hair. His fist opens and closes, an outward representation of the battle waging inside of his mind. You know you're risking it all here, but for him, you’d risk everything. 

You reach out, tentatively, and your fingers ghost over his jaw. His eyes snap open again, pure torment in them. You slowly, so slowly, spread your fingers until your cupping his face. 

You see it, the infinitesimal movement, where he leans into your touch and it's the confirmation you needed. You push yourself off the wall and force your mouth to his. He huffs in surprise, and there's a beat where you think it hasn't worked before he's kissing you back. Consuming you, mouth working against yours all tongue, teeth, and fury. You melt into him, as his hands grip your waist and yours have found their way to his shoulders. It’s soul searing and his mouth fits yours perfectly. Relief floods your system so strongly you're shaking. He pulls back to rest his forehead on yours, both of you gulping down air. His eyes are still haunted, but at least it's not all consuming now. Now you can see the lust in them, hovering on the edges. 

“Hey, you guys good?” Steve asks, sounding more than a little concerned

Bucky gave you a shaky half smile, “Yeah, we’re good, Steve.”


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack. How will Bucky react?

The aftermath is chaotic. People are bustling around, bodies being carried away like litter and a faint buzzing in your head. You're sitting on a bunk in the infirmary while one of the med techs checks you over. You can see her glance at you every few seconds, the dazed look on your face causing concern but you can't bring yourself to put her at ease. You're in overload, the past few hours have done a number on you. At this point, you're not even sure your body can even produce adrenaline anymore. You’d like to say your unaffected by the whole gun-to-your-head thing but honestly, it was playing on a loop in your mind. That, and Bucky’s fist flying at your face, face void of any emotion. 

Gun-Bucky-Click-Thump-Gun-Bucky

Heart still driving headlong out of your chest, doing loops around your body and leaving ritchey echos in your skull. 

Achy pain seeps through the daze, your body is starting to feel the effects of the fight and the sharp tight pain in your hairline reminds you that the Hydra asshole almost yanked your hair out. Your knuckles are bloody, but not broken. One of your fingers dislocated when you threw that punch, and she had to set it back once the painkillers took effect. That’s going to be a bitch. 

Despite it all, your lips were still tingling from that kiss. God, it had been good. No-one-will-ever-compare good. Which begs the question of how, really? Bucky wasn't exactly a social butterfly, and he sure as hell wasn't off brushing up his kissing skills whilst he was The Winter Soldier. You assume, anyway. 

A heavy sigh escapes you, remembering the panic that had engulfed him when he came back to himself. Dropping contact with you like you had scalded him, he had quickly disappeared from the gym, Steve gave you an apologetic glance before racing after him. Last you heard, they were locked away with Tony and Bruce, working on a failsafe incase it ever happened again. 

You think back to what he said before shit hit the fan. He wanted you, that much was clear. You’d had no idea of the internal struggle he faced with it though, but it made sense now. He had spent so long under Hydra's control---his mind and body just another tool for them to use--- you’d never considered that his attraction to you might feel the same to him. His body responding in ways he can’t control, you could see why his first instinct was to fight it. Doesn't mean you have to be happy about it though. 

“Miss Y/N?” A hesitant voice broke through the fog in your mind.

“Oh, um y-yeah?” 

“I need to set your finger now…”

“Oh, sure.” You hesitantly place your hand into her outstretched ones, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. No use pretending this wasn't gonna hurt. 

The med tech -Kelly?- gives you a small grimacesmile as she wraps her fingers round your offending finger, then a quick 1-2-3 and a god awful popping and it’s back home.

Air escapes between your teeth in a sharp hiss. God that fucking hurt. You refuse the wrap she wants to give you, knowing you would get annoyed with its restrictions any way.

Debriefing is long. You go over every detail with Fury, even the one you’d rather leave out. Only Steve knew about your kiss with Bucky and you’d rather keep it that way but it’s not like Fury will tell anyone. He’s nothing if not professional. He waves you off, satisfied he has everything he needs, before telling you to get some rest. You head to your room, aching and weary, and ready to put today behind you. Showering away the evidence of today; the blood, sweat and fear that was still clinging to your skin. Once dry and dressed, you climb into bed and sleep quickly pulls at you taking only a few short moments before you succumb.

Sleep is fitful, you wake several times through the night taking note of only one thing; your bed is empty. You can’t help the hollow pit feeling you get in your stomach each time you wake and Bucky still hasn't climbed in beside you. Forcing yourself to believe that it’s because he’s still working with Tony and Bruce is the only way you can find a way to go back to sleep at all. 

Peeling your eyes open in the morning, a pang of something shudders through you as your eyes land on the still empty side of the bed. Feeling the cold sheets with your palm, it's obvious no one has slept here. The heat from Bucky lingers hours after he’s gone. You tell yourself that you didn't sleep well because of the injuries, and the fight hangover. Ha!

Three days. Three long ass days pass and you see nothing of Bucky. Since the day of the Hydra invasion, everything has been on hold. No training, no missions, no nothing. You’ve been hiding out in your room, only surfacing to scour food from the kitchen or to do laundry. 

The fourth day finds you staring at your reflection in the mirror. Weary, tired eyes stare back at you. The lack of sleep clearly taking its tole, your eyes are puffy and rimmed with dark circles, your hair's slicked back in a messy not-the-cute-kind bun and your skin is adopting a slight grey tone. God, you really needed a decent night's sleep. Damn him, James Barnes, for making it impossible to sleep without him next to you. You were just fine before he started creeping into your bed every night. Now you were half a person without him, just all safety pins and duct tape holding your guts together. 

Ridiculous.

One kiss, a few scattered conversations and some spooning. Okay a lot of spooning but still, hardly the basis for such intense pouting which is essentially what you're doing. 

At any point you could have easily sought him out but you didn't. Stubborn and just a bit afraid. The last look he gave you in the gym before darting out the door, horror and regret, had kept you from doing it. Sure, 30 mins prior to that he had threatened to fuck you against a wall but that didn't mean he planned on actually doing it. Or wanted to; just because his body did doesn't mean his mind agreed. 

Dragging a hand over your face you give yourself a mental shake. No more pouting. Time to get past this.

A shower, clean hair and freshly shaved legs later, you’re making your way through the compound. Mind made up, you know what you want, and who is going to give it to you. Finding the door you want, a quick knock has the door swinging open.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

“Nat. I want to go dancing. Tonight. You in?” She arches that perfect fucking eyebrow at you. 

“Always. Team night out?” You can tell she’s already mentally planning this. Nat’s the best at this kind of thing, other than Tony. Surprisingly, she loves to party. And she’s the best wingwoman you could ask for. 

“Sure. Whatever. I just need out of here. I’m suffocating.” Even you can hear the whine in your voice. 

“Still needing that itch scratched huh?” She releases a breathy laugh at the bitch face you throw her way, already turning on your heels and heading back towards your room. 

Crossing the kitchen, you stop to grab and quick Coke from the fridge. Lost in your thoughts as your turn the corner out of the kitchen, you notice someone too late to prevent yourself from colliding with them. Bouncing off the wall of chest and shoulders, you stumble back before two large hands grip your elbows and quickly right you.

“S-Shit, sorry. Wasn’ paying attention…” Your voice trails off as your eyes meet the haunting grey eyes of one James Buchanan Barnes. Eyes flashing, he said nothing and simply stared at you. Into you. You notice the dark circles cupping his eyes and the crinkles at the corners seem deeper than usual. It's’ clear he hasn't been getting much sleep either, and your heart does a little leap at the thought of that immediately followed by a pang of guilt. 

Really? Celebrating the fact that the man hasn't slept. A new low. 

Brushing past him without another word, you head to your room to get ready for tonight. You were gonna have fun and forget about Bucky even if only for a little while.

The deep base of the music vibrated through you. The warm buzz of alcohol seeped into your bones, filling you will false bravado and loosening up all those tense muscles. You and Nat are in the centre of the dancefloor, hips moving to the beat and voices scratchy as you shout long with the music. 

This is what you needed; to let go, relax.

Sweat makes your dress stick to you as you move, the throng of dancing bodies pulsing like a living breathing thing. Nat taps you on your arm, signalling for a drink. You nod and you both push your way through the bodies until you reach the bar. Steve is there, smiling at you both, his back to the bar as he surveys the room. Ever the soldier. You lean over the bar to give the bartender your order, and feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Spinning, your eyes scan for the source of you unease and finally fall on the looming figure beside you.

Bucky. Bucky is here. He eyes and travelling over your body and leisurely pace, taking in all your curves as your dress clings to you. When his eyes finally meet yours they are dark and hungry. A involuntary shiver runs through through you as you watch his fists clench at his sides. Your gazed is locked with his, magnetized there. The henley he's sporting is pulled tight over his chest as it rises and falls with his fast uneven breaths. His lips part as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, stare never faltering. 

“Y/N, let's go!” Nat’s yell breaks the spell as she tugs you forward towards the dancefloor. 

When you look back Bucky is turned towards Steve, moment already forgotten. Anger blooms in your chest. He cannot keep fucking with you. This was not the plan. You take the drink from Nat, which you now realize she must have bought since you got distracted, and down it in one go. The drink was mostly alcohol and it burns a path down your throat and into your stomach. You relish the burn, and quickly lose yourself in the music again.

Songs merge together as you dance, submerging yourself into the heart of the crowd. Large hands grip your waist and a body presses against you, molding to your curves and swaying in time with your hips. You turn your head and glimpse a cute blonde haired guy giving you a wide smile and questioning eyes. You lean back into him, determined to chase Bucky from your thoughts. Somewhere in the back of your mind a tiny voice is screaming that it's just the alcohol and you should walk away. Only it was too late for that.

The music pulses, bodies push and grind all around you. You raise your hand and reach back to cup the back of cute-guys neck, pulling him closer and you sway your hips. His hands tighten, and lips meet the side of your neck trailing down to your shoulder. PDA’s of this nature aren't usually your style but between the music and alcohol you're getting carried away. 

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Bucky growls as he looms over you, staring cute-guy right in the eyes. Cute-guy drops his hands from you instantly, and backs away with his hands raised in a ‘I’m innocent’ kinda way. The angry is rolling off Bucky in waves and fuck if it doesn't push all your buttons. You don't even have it in you to be mad at him for chasing away cute-guy. 

His eyes land on yours, all fire and rage. Cold fingers clamp down on your wrist as he pulls you through the mass of bodies.

As you surface from the crowd, hands spin you and you back meets the hard wall before you even register you've moved. Bucky's eyes are wild as he closes the gap between you, pressing his body against the length of you, arms boxing you in. 

“You. Are. Mine.” He growls low, and fuck if that isn't the hottest thing you've ever heard. You open your mouth to say exactly that and he uses it as his opportunity to capture your lips in a toe curling kiss. His mouth invades yours, taking his fill. No doubt about it, this was a claiming kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hand moved to grip the back of your head, tilting so that he could deepen the kiss. Your hands fist in his shirt, using him to anchor you as the ground moves beneath your feet. Heat blooms and spreads from your lips to your chest and lower. Spreading right out until you're shaking with it, fingertips tingling in anticipation. His lips burn a path down your neck and small needy gasps escape your mouth. A thick muscled thigh pushes between your legs and the delicious pressure of it right there cuts through the last sliver of self-control you had been grasping. You grind down on him, revelling in the bursts of pleasurepain it sends ricocheting through your body. Bucky sucks hard on the skin at your collarbone, a low moan erupts from you. 

“Shit. Shit.” His forehead meets yours, eyes blazing. He squeezes them shut and pulls in a shaky breath through his nose before releasing it. “Not here. Not like this.” 

He opens his eyes, pleading with you. Begging you to understand he isn't rejecting you. You nod, not trusting your voice. “Let’s get out of here?” He gruff voice sounds hesitant, like he isn't sure you’ll say yes. 

Is he kidding? Your entire body is aching for him, every cell in you is straining towards him. 

“Fuck yes.” You smirk before pulling him towards to exit, desperate to get this sexy bastard of a man alone before he changes his mind.

Well the taxi ride home is sure to be...interesting.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that tensions gotta go somewhere right?

The taxi is tense, the air between you pulled taut. You sit shoulder to shoulder, legs pressed tight. His thumb is making tight circles on your thigh while his left knee bounces in agitation. Your buzz is wearing off which is fine by you, you want to have complete presence of mind when you finally get Bucky out of his clothes. He shifts slightly, pushing his hand higher up on your leg until his fingers are dancing just under the hem of your dress. Your thighs clench, desperate for some friction. Weeks, months even, of build up and no release; your body is on the verge of a meltdown. 

There’s white noise in your head, drowning out the sounds of the bustling streets and generic hum of music from the radio. Everything's blurred and you're unable to focus, losing streets with each blink. Bucky’s hand is gripping you harder, almost painfully, his whole hand now covered by the soft material of your dress. Wait-When did he move his hand? 

You risk a peek at him and find him staring at you. Eyes that slightly unfocused look, pupils so blown his eyes are almost black giving them a dangerous edge. Not that he needs it, he radiates danger and sex like 110% of the time, like you know he could tighten his grip just so and that would be it but god if it doesn't make him that much sexier. 

“That’s $17.50.” You blink at the voice cutting through your lust haze. 

Shit, you were here. Home. 

Throwing some money at the driver, Bucky disappears out his side of the cab. Your body is slow to respond and before you can convince your hand to grip the door handle it's swung open with such force you almost tumble out. Bucky's standing there, hand outstretched waiting to help you get out. You pause for a beat, allowing your eyes to sweep over him as he hovers over you, all hard flesh and intrigue. Taking in the wild halo of hair framing his face, the hard line of his jaw just begging to be licked, and those sinful fucking lips as he rolls his tongue along the bottom lips leaving a wet trail. 

“Coming?” His voice is thick and low, a dark edge to it. 

“God, I hope so…” You breathe, nudging forward to the edge of the seat. He huffs out a laugh as you slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet and flush against him. 

“Trust me, you will.” He growls, looking you dead in the eye; more a threat than a promise. A shudder works its way down your body, from your neck to your toes and spreads to your fingertips. 

The tapping of your footsteps echo tauntingly as your feet work to keep up with Bucky, the firm pressure of his hand at your back a steady reminder of what’s to come. 

You reach your room door, or was it his? You had no idea. There’s a grippull and you're against the door, the cold solidness of it pressing into your shoulders. Bucky's mouth is on yours, deep and thorough, tasting you like he has no intentions of stopping. A hand is in your hair, another gripping your ass and oh --- cold fingers--- inch under the hem of your dress and slide along the flesh where ass meets leg. A moan escapes you into his waiting mouth, he presses forward like he’s trying to capture and keep it. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, a deep bass that rattled you bone-deep. 

He breaks away, sliding his meaty hand down your neck and hooking in your shoulder, he pulls a little and you yield immediately. Tucking you tight into him, he twists the handle and swings the door open. You barely take notice of the details, only registering enough to know he'd brought you to his room and you feel a little flutter at that. His room. 

Thoughts are cut short by his hands on your waist, broad and firm, guiding you further inside before kicking the door shut. You place your hands over his, marvelling at the feel of them on you. The way they stretch out over your hips and across your stomach, taking up so much space on your body. You turn in his arms, his hands automatically landing on your ass and you slide yours up his arms slowly. Feeling over every muscle and dip, you take your time making your ascent. 

Now that you were here and this was happening, you wanted to slow it down, really feel it all. As much as you hated to admit it, you had no idea what this meant for you and Bucky. So, if this was the only chance you were gonna get to be with him you wanted to feel everything. 

This time when your mouths meet you savour it. The feel of his soft lips, warm and insistent against yours. The delicious feel of his stubble scraping along your skin as his mouth works in tandem with yours. It soft and tentative and then all at once it's furious. The energy between you is pulled too tight, there’s no way to slow it. He’s drinking you down, thirsty for you and you can’t help biting down on his lip, just a little pressure. His breath hitches, a small sound escapes him and that sound alone lights a path down your skin. He tilts a little, lips smearing across your jawline, his teeth and tongue working at you. You lean in response, giving him access as he nips and burns his way down your neck and collarbone. He pays attention, hovering over any spots that pull desperate little sighs from you. 

He’s mapping you. Mapping your pleasure. Fuck. 

He slides up you, his massive hands taking up the entire expanse of your back. Deft fingers find the zipper of your dress and tug a little. He pulls back a little, enough for your eyes to meet and waits. You nod and the action brings your forehead to meet his. Leaning into you, he pulls on the zipper, slowly working it down your back to the space just before the curve of you ass the backs of his knuckles dragging down your skin. His hands slip into the gap, grabbing handfuls of you. There's a groan that sounded sort like a ‘fuck’ and his mouth is on yours again; the urgency returning. He hauls you closer still, you feel the hardness of him pressing against your stomach and it jolts you right to your toes. The buzz in your head is back except this time it’s not alcohol, it's pure Bucky. You're drunk on him, floating with thought of it. He fills up every space. There’s frantic tugging and your dress is slipping down, the cold air chasing goosebumps over your body. 

You huff a quick--- “Too many clothes,” ---and grip the front of his henley and pull, not really doing anything but he takes the hint and does that sexy-as-hell one handed pull over from the back of his neck and quickly discards it. 

Broad hands land on the back of your thighs and haul up. You land against him with a soft oompf, slipping your fingers into his hair. Wiggling a little, you adjust the angle so you're pressed against him, his hard length hitting you right there where you need him. Heat blooms everywhere, curling in your stomach and reaching your fingertips. The contrast of his cool metal fingers and warm fleshy ones on your skin is intoxicating. He moves, air whooshes and your back meets the soft cushion of his mattress, his body following you down, your knees squeezing him as his heavy weight settles over you. He fits his mouth against yours, tongue sliding across your bottom lip and shifts his lower body just a little and ah- little sparks of pleasure erupt in you forcing the breath from your lungs. 

His metal hand releases its grip on the back of your thigh, trailing itself up your body, dancing a little under the hem of your underwear before settling on your ribs. He pushes the tips of his fingers under the bones of your bra, teasing just enough to make you twist a little towards him, trying to push his hand over you. He smirks a little against your mouth before sliding them along and under to the junction in the middle. 

“Do you like this bra?” His voice is bassy, like gravel against your lips.

“Uh-” You will your mind to work, attempt to string together words through the lust fog but Bucky’s too impatient. He twists his metal thumb and forefinger on the front of your bra, there's a whirring sound and separates it completely. Hastily shoving it out the way, he slides his hand right up the soft flesh under your breast, watching as your skin reacts to the cold. He drags a finger up and circles your nipple which hardens in response, his breath huffs against your cheek. Your head turns and you moan against his neck as his fingers close over the tip, tugging and rolling it. 

The touch was soft, delicate and completely at odds with the hard metal of his fingers. It added another layer to the act, knowing this hand was a honed weapon, one wrong move and it could kill you in an instant, making everything that much more intense. You briefly wonder about the whole danger-turns-you-on-thing but decide not pull at that particular thread.

Your back arches off the bed as warm lips wrap themselves around your nipple, tongue laving in tight circles. God the sight of it, the way he looks those lips pulling at you, it's dizzying. A deep shuddering breath escapes you, his lips trail across you licking and tasting, the slight graze of teeth pushing you further off the bed before they hover over your other nipple, his breath warm against your skin. He hovers, waits, drawing out the tension, those few heart beats where blood rushes and pauses all at the same time, before pushing forward and encasing you between those wicked lips. He presses himself into you, hard, the rough material of his jeans digging into your soft skin and the combination pulls needy little whimpers from your mouth. Bucky’s eyes flash to yours, wild and just an edge of predatory and he releases you with a loud -pop. 

“Shit Y/N-”, he shifts his weight, pushing all of it entirely on his right arm, “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” his voice gruff, near panting- “God, so many times…” He’s grinding down on you now, slow and deliberate, “And never, not once, did I imagine just how good you’d sound-” Your whimpers have graduated to moans, his words pouring over you, into you, “These sounds Y/N, all for me… all mine.” he growls out the last word as his lips find yours again, kissing you deep and bruising.

“Me too.” You breath against his lips, nipping at them

“Yeah?” Low and hopeful and almost a whisper, his eyes lock with yours. 

“Yeah.” Your lips brush as you say it, each touch sending jolts down your spine. He holds again, pushes back so theres a fraction of an inch between your lips, the energy jumping between them.

One beat, then two. All at once he surrounds you, his mouth covers yours, his right hand tangles in your hair whilst the other slips down your body, thumb caressing over your hip bone skin raising and tingling in response. His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, twisting his hand so the backs of his cold knuckles brush against your folds, jarring you. His tongue dances in your mouth as he brushes his thumb higher, each mimicking the other in lazy, sapid circles. You hum into his mouth, your body shaking, practically vibrating, with the need for more. He presses a finger into you, pushing in til his knuckles brush right against you, making your body jerk. He sets a steady pace, just on the soft edge of frantic and you lose yourself a little, unable to respond in anything other than sharp, pitchy gasps. The bite of the coldness pushing at the heat of you, a delicious dance and build, threatening the edge of that something more. He pulls back a little, twists and adds another finger, then crooking them up and forward, caressing your g-spot just enough to make your hips roll into him. Its everything at once, and it's too much and not enough. You shove a little against his shoulder, and he gives immediately, pulling back to look at you, eyes full of concern.

“S’enough. I want you.” You mumble, voice thick and lust drunk.

He presses a quick kiss to you mouth and pushes up off the bed, fingers making deft work of his jeans as they are quickly pushed over his thick muscled thighs. His muscles coil and pull as he steps out of them, his boxers quickly follow suit. Then he’s stalking towards you, his hard cock bouncing with each step. He knees up the bed, and nudges your legs open a little, his arms caging around your head as he presses his weight against you. Slipping a hand between you, he smears his fingers in your wetness and coats himself with, giving a few pumps before lining himself up with you. His eyes amble up your body, all poised and ready with a faint sheen of sweat gathering, and finally land on yours; hard with glittering heat. Huffing out a breath, you drag your feet up and together at the small of his back, and pull. He sinks down, your body taking him in one stroke so ready from the forever build up. The noise that tears from him is pure guttural and punches you right the gut. The fullness is overwhelming, the delicious burn of stretching making your mind hazy. You hands slip around and grip his shoulders, fingers pressing hard in the muscle. A second passes, then another, then he's moving, pressing forward into you, rolling up and sending buzzy waves of pleasure up your spine. His pace slow, torturous, his hands tangling in your hair, gripping and tilting so he can access your neck, sucking marks into you as he drives you deeper into the haze that's gripped you. Pleasure takes root within you, spiraling up and spreading through each nerve with every tilt of his hips. 

“Jesus, doll-” he pants, his forehead resting on yours, “Jesus, fuck, you feel so good…”

You hum in agreement, not quite able to form coherent sentences at this point. You pull at him, frantic, urging him deeper, faster. He responds instantly, snapping his hips forward at a bruising pace, driving you into the mattress. A deep achy fire builds in you gut, and you push your hips up to meet him. Moans tumble out your mouth as you close in on that final crest, Bucky slips his hand between you, angling his body up and driving his pelvic bones flush against you, he rubs in frantic circles. Two more thrusts and you fall over the edge, pleasure wrapping round you and pulling you under. Your walls flutter around him, eliciting a chorus of fuckfuckfuck from him, Bucky’s thrusts become jutty and erratic over you as he pushes forward to find his own release. He lets out a strangled chokecry and spills inside you, burying his face in the space where your neck meets shoulder. 

The ringing in your ears dies down, leaving just the sound of your huffing breaths as you fight to calm your hammering heart. Bucky lifts his head, eyes searching yours. He kisses you, soft and sweet, completely at odds with the way he just fucked you into mattress. 

A quick clean up and he's pulling you into his arms, tucking you tight against him, his soft snores filling the quiet of his room. You fight sleep a little while, committing every moment to memory before finally succumbing to the soft whisperings of dreams, not knowing what tomorrow will bring but not really caring. You were confident that whatever had happened here tonight, it was a bone-deep kind of change. Bucky was yours.


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday so here, have some fluffy morning after feels <3

Bucky POV

Bucky wakes before you, his sharpened senses unable to ignore the soft glow of sunrise peeking through the slates on his window. His room gleams a fiery orange, every surface dancing with it. 

He glances down at you, curled tight against him, hair fanned out around you in a wild halo. Last night had been… everything. There was something so freeing about finally giving into his desires for you. No longer waging a war against his own body, his own heart; this was the lightest he had felt in a very long time, probably since before Hydra. He skims the backs of his fingers down your skin, watching as goosebumps break out after each touch. He smoothes his thumb over your bottom lip, chasing it with his lips. He’s revelling in the freedom of that feeling, of just being able to touch and kiss you simply because he wants to. He knows the instant you wake, as a lazy frown mar’s your face and your grip on him tightens ever so slightly as though you worry he will disappear. A sliver of guilt breaks its way free at that thought knowing he is the one to plant those tiny doubts in your mind.

“Morning,” he whispers against your mouth, that oh so beautiful mouth.

“Mmmm…” you mumble incoherently, sleep still pulling at you, “We seriously need to get you some blackout curtains.”

He laughs a little at that, but is hanging off the way you said ‘we’ like you were a team now. Like it was the most natural thing in the world

“Whatever you say, Doll.”

You open your eyes and peer at him, your face open and curious. Bucky maps your face with his eyes, dragging in deep vats of air into his lungs to steady himself. He knows he has to talk to you, explain himself a little given the way he caveman-ed all over you last night. Dragging you from the club like you were property, his property...he can’t help the warm buzz he gets from that particular thought. 

“So...last night was…” Doubt floods your face and you duck your head a little, eyes lowering, and it sucker punches his heart. He brings his hand up to cup your face, thumb pressing just under your jaw to tilt your head back up to his, “Last night was amazing.” He enunciates every word slowly, watching as each one hits you.

“O-oh..yeah- yeah it was.” The smile that breaks out on your face knocks the wind from him. God, so beautiful. His heart gives a little stutter, and his lips find their way to yours, dancing softly over them. It’s like the dam has broken, now that he stopped fighting it he can’t keep his hands, or lips, off you. 

“It's just- I want… I’m not looking for a one time thing, doll.” The words feel thick in his mouth as he says them, trying to coax his mouth into telling you what he wants.

“Uh? What, like a friends with benefits kinda thing? I don’t think-” You voice pitches a little, the disappointment weighing. 

“Shit, no. God no. I mean, if you want, I’d like to see where this thing between us goes.”

“Oh. OH. Like dating?” He nods his head, knowing full well he’s given you no real reason to want this with him, “Uh, yeah. Yes. I’d like that.”

With that, his heart is gone. Soaring and dipping, leaving his body behind to cocoon you tight against him. He dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongue invading your mouth as his fingers dance across your jaw and disappear in your hair. A moan escapes your mouth and he swallow it up, his fingers tightening in your hair and the kiss turns deeper. He rolls over, pinning you beneath him with his hips, his solid weight pressing your further into the mattress. He loves this, the feel of you under him, so open and responsive even if he doesn't deserve it. He could stay here forever. 

Reader POV

He's making you forget yourself, your fingers tangled in his hair, legs wrapped around his waist as his lips steal your sanity. There's more you want to say, or ask, but his fingers have now found their way down your neck and they’re resting on your collarbone with clear intent.

“Nrrgghh, B-Bucky...” You pull back from him, breaths coming a little choppy now, and rest your forehead on his, “What happened, you know, at the club?”

His eyes bore into you as your breaths mingle, his face darkens for a beat before it clears, a smirk forming. 

“Oh, you mean when I acted like a possessive bastard and practically dragged you out?” You release a small laugh, and nod, “I just couldn't do it. I couldn't watch you with anyone else, when I saw his hands on you...I snapped.”

“I guess I just don't understand, you seemed like you regretted the kiss. Like you weren't interested. I was only at the club to try to forget you in the first place.”

“I know, I was just...scared? I don't know, at first it was frustrating to me because it's been so long since I've been in control of me, ya know? So when I started to feel things for you, my instinct was to fight them.” He pauses for a beat and drags a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes everywhere but yours.

“But you were the only thing that helped with the nightmares, so fighting them was ridiculous really when I was climbing into your bed every night. Then after the attack and I realised that everything was still there, t-that I could still be The Winter Soldier, there was no way I could be alone with you again. So I avoided you, because it's what I do.”

He gives you a wry smile as he finally meets your eyes, a glimmering of pain evident in them.

“Steve kept saying I was being stupid, because you were the one who snapped me out of it, but I was stubborn and terrified and so I ignored him. I think I knew we were inevitable though, because as soon as I seen that asshole put his hands on you I lost my shit completely. I'm sorry about that, well, sort of. It led us to this…” 

You listen as he explains, his voice barely above a whisper but still nestling its way into your gut and settling there. Understanding washes over you, and perhaps a little guilt. Of course it would be difficult for him, after everything he’s been through, and you’d pouted for weeks over it. You understood him better now, granted this was the longest conversation you’d ever had with the man. But at least you knew this thing was real, this pull between you, that it was solid and breathing. 

“I’m in this Bu- James. Are you in this with me?”

“Fuck yes. I know I’ve given you reason to doubt me, but I’ll show you.”

And he did. 

All day.   
Several times.

You venture out of Bucky’s room that evening, desperate for a shower and change of clothes, as nice as it was wearing his sweats and T-shirts. As though she freaking lives there, Nat is in the kitchen when you try to sneak passed.

“You. Asshole. Where the fuck did you go last night? Wait- are you...are you doing the walk of shame right now?” Her eyes dance and glitter as she says that last part, her anger quickly forgotten.

“Uhhh...maybe?” There’s no point in lying to her anyway. Assassin's know. 

“Well, well Y/N. Getting some...finally. Tell me, who scratched that itch for you?”

“Erm...it’s...Bucky. Uh, I went home with Bucky.”

“About time, god, if i had to see you two eye-fucking each other one more time I swear I was gonna gouge my eyes out with a blunt spoon.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, completely unsurprised and unfazed by your life altering news. 

“We did not-” Your voice is loud, too loud, and you glance around frantically to ensure no one is there before harshly whispering, “We did not ‘eye fuck’.” 

“Puh-lease, I called that shit months ago. We even have a pool going to see how long it takes you to bang.”

“Natalia!” You duck your head at that, but can’t help that half smile that pulls across your face. It helps in the most ridiculous way, to know that someone other than you think that Bucky likes you. You enjoy the little buzzy warmth you get from that, “Just, just don’t tell the guys okay? We need to figure this out for ourselves without their meddling.”

“Oh. Oohh.”

“Oh what?”

“It's serious. Not just sex.”

“I guess so. I- I really like him Nat.”

She stares at you for a minute, that unflinching gratey stare that always makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“I think that’s pretty great actually. You two, you seem like a good fit. I like it. He needs someone ya know? Someone to help him put the pieces back. And you are exactly the kind of someone. Just, be careful...okay?” 

You gulp in a breath letting it settle in your gut, knowing it’s past that point. There’s no undoing it now. This pull, well, you were pretty sure it was permanent. 

“I think it’s too late for careful now, Nat. Pretty sure I’m already in love with him.”


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve decides it's time to get back to training, with Bucky of course, not knowing about the relationship you two have started. Teasing...so much teasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, I know, I'm sorry! Having trouble with Writers block but pushing my way through! Hope you guys enjoy

“Y/N.” Bucky cups your face, running his thumb over your lips, “Y/N, I have to go.”

  
You peer up at him from your position in bed, sleep making the image of him a little fuzzy.

  
“Mmmm, why? It’s so early.” You whine, snuggling further into the covers.

  
“Steve will come get me for our morning run soon. I kinda have to be there, or he’ll get suspicious.”

  
“Urgh, I guess. Well, have fun?”

  
He laughs before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and disappearing out the door. You can’t help the smile the works its way onto your face, your forehead tingling from where his lips touched you. The intimacy of the gesture took you by surprise but it wasn’t unwelcome.

  
Bucky had crept into your room late last night, long after your conversation with Nat in the kitchen. You both agreed that you weren’t ready to share it with anyone else yet, wanting to have some time getting to know each other without the extra eyes on you at all times. It had been such an amazing feeling to lie beside him and simply allow yourself to touch him. Slipping an arm around his waist, or threading your fingers with his, the last 24 hours had been a dream.

  
Feeling lighter than you had in days, and just a little achy, you burrow into your blankets and opt at have a few more hours of blissful sleep.

  
A loud knocking wakes you several hours later, you pull the covers tight over your head, determined to ignore it. As if in protest, you stomach gives a loud gurgle and you feel the emptiness of it. Knowing there isn’t much point in resisting - your appetite is legendary in the compound - you throw the covers off and trudge over to the door muttering to yourself as you go.

  
Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with Steve, who’s holding out a breakfast burrito like its a White Flag.

  
“I brought you breakfast, don’t punch me.” He fake winces, before pushing past you into the room, “Now, can you put some clothes on?”

  
You glance down at yourself, realizing that you had opted to sleep in a tank and boxers because of Bucky, “Hey, you’re the one who busted in here at-” you check your alarm clock, “12.30, jeez, is that really the time?”

  
“Yup.” Steve replies, popping the P whilst giving you his signature Judgement Eyebrow.

  
“Well, whatever. You don’t wanna see my ass, don’t come to my room uninvited.” You flop down onto your bed, tucking in to the burrito with a moan as the first bite hits your tastebuds. Your long past being modest with Steve, dude’s practically your brother. Besides, junk food really was your weakness.

  
“You ready to get back your training?” He eyes you warily as you inhale the burrito at lightening speed.

  
“Mmmrfffpphh, mmmay-ve.”

  
“God, you’re disgusting.” He wrinkles his nose at you before laughter erupts from him as the wrapper smacks off his head, followed by a rude gesture, “I’m kidding…sort of?”

  
“I said, maybe.” You resist the urge to stick out your tongue.

  
He stands, waltzing passed you on his way out the door, “You have an hour. See you downstairs, Kid.” He ruffles your hair on the way past. Maybe he’s more like a Dad?

  
Once you’re finished, you shower and get dressed, choosing some workout gear since there’s no way Steve is gonna let you out of any more training days. He already gave you a week off since the attack. You catch your reflection in the mirror as you attempt to tame your hair, and it’s the most rested you’ve looked in a while. You skin has color again, your eyes are bright and there’s a perma-smile on your face that’s threatening to make even you barf.

  
God, you were ridiculously in love. It was sickening. You take that knowledge and you stuff it down deep, way down deep.  
When you enter the gym you flicker between the present and the attack, the sharp bite of the gun a phantom pain across your jaw. You blink slowly, once, twice, and your vision clears and your back in the present. You huff out a breath through your nose. Fucking Hydra.

  
“Glad you could finally join us, Y/N.” Steve says from behind the punchbag. There’s a few of the more broken ones stacked against the back wall. Two hanging a few feet apart, like weird stocky dance partners swaying to unheard music,

  
“Sorry, Captain Hard-Ass. Some of us mere mortals actually enjoy sleep.”

  
You hear a snort from behind the other bag, peering round you see Bucky standing, water bottle in hand and looking very post-workout. He’s wearing a tight grey t-shirt, the arms stretching to accommodate the sheer size of his biceps. Does the metal one count as a bicep? Huh. The shirt is damp with sweat, a clear indication of how hard he’s been working since he rarely sweats, and damn, even that is fucking hot. His sweatpants hang low and loose, and now that you know what’s underneath you couldn’t control your eyes if you wanted to. When your eyes finally meet his, he’s smirking, cat-got-the-cream smirking and you catch yourself mirroring it before casting your eyes back to Steve who’s finding the whole thing just a little too interesting.

  
“So, what’s next in 100-ways-to-kill-Y/N?” You ask Steve, directing his attention away from the silent exchange between you and Bucky.

  
“Very funny.” cue eyeroll, “Just some hand to hand combat, maybe a little knife throwing if you manage to knock Bucky on his ass at least once.”

  
Oh this was going to be interesting.

  
And it was. Or torturous, or maybe both. Hand to hand with Bucky wasn’t anything new, but the way Bucky lingered on your skin was. Every time he pinned you he’d hold it just a few seconds longer than polite, or his fingers would skim your ass as he circled you, teasing till your vision was blurry with it. He’s using the way you react to him like a weapon and you find it immensely unfair. He’s pinned you again, and this time you find yourself millimetres from the muscles and tendons of his neck, his turned his head to listen to Steve’s instructions and you seize your moment. You place your lips on his neck, sliding your tongue over his pulse point, tasting the faint hint of sweat. His throat moves as he swallow loudly, his voice falters slightly and now you have the upper hand. You use the vantage point, knowing Steve can only see Bucky’s body blocking you against the wall, you arch against him, pressing so that your torso is flush with his, feeling his breath rush out of him in response. His grip on you falters allowing you to slip from his grasp, you slip a leg behind his and use his body weight to unbalance him sending him to the floor with a resounding thud.  
Bucky blinks up at you, eyes wide, the whites threatening to overtake. Steve stops mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open before splitting into a very Proud Dad smile.

  
“Nice job, Y/N!”

  
“She got lucky.” Bucky murmurs as he stands, but you see the secret half-smile he’s hiding under all that hair.

“We’re done for today. I have a few things I wanna go over with you tomorrow, but for today you did good. A little distracted, but good. Try to focus more tomorrow, huh Kid?” Steve gives you a weird look, but passes it off as a nod and then he’s turning to Bucky.

Guess you’ve been dismissed?

  
Your eyes automatically slide over Bucky before you leave, he’s watching you over Steve’s shoulder sending you a look that sends bolts up your spine.

  
You wander through the corridors, a lazy pace, mind lost in thoughts of Bucky’s fingers slipping along your skin. You make it half way back to your room before you round a corner and straight into him. He hauls you by the waist until your back is against the wall, a running theme with him, and his face is inches from yours. He dips and runs his nose up your jaw, breathing deeply like he’s grounding himself.

  
“Fuck, Y/N.” He mouths along your jaw, slowly by thoroughly, “Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself today?”

  
“Hmmm…” Your mouth trips a little, distracted by the way his mouth and tongue are tasting your skin, “From where I was standing, you didn’t keep your hands to yourself at all.”

  
“Trust me, I did.” His hands wander down to your ass, a thick thigh edging between your legs effectively pinning you to the wall, “Shit, I really did. The things-”

  
He cuts off as his eyes cloud over a little with shades of lust and edge. The look he gets has you wondering what those things were, hoping he’ll tell you, or better yet show you; the look of clear intent. His lips find yours, mouth sliding against yours as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. The soft push and pull of him is making your skin hum and pulse with need.

  
“The things I wanted to do, want to do…” He continues, lips brushing with yours as his mouth makes the shapes of each word, his voice low and gravely, pouring over you.

  
“Mmmm, what sorta things?” You pull his bottom lip into you mouth, not really sucking, just a gentle pressure to hold it there and revel in the feel of it.

  
A loud buzzing pierces the bubble you were floating in, Bucky’s phone rudely interrupting your conversation and reminding you that you were currently grinding down on Bucky’s thigh in the middle of an open corridor. With a heavy sigh, Bucky pushes back a little, edges his hand down to pull his phone from his pocket.

  
“It’s Steve.”

  
“You should go.” You brush your lips along his cheek, “I’ll see you later?”

  
“Hmm, yeah. Uh- do you…meet me in my room?”

  
You smile, more to yourself than him, because he thought he even had to ask, “Sure, Buck. I’ll be there.”

  
You shower and change, spending a little longer on your hair than normal, attempting to tame it into some sort of style. You quietly make your way to Bucky’s room, avoiding the kitchen incase like the plague, knowing Nat is probably lurking again. Once at his door, you slip inside, relieved to have got here without bumping into anyone for a change.

  
Door shut behind you, you suddenly feel very aware that you were in Bucky’s room…alone. Doing a slow circle, you once-over everything, noting the absence of personal touches.

  
Your eyes fall on the window, the now covered window.

  
Your heart stuttered in your chest.

  
He’d hung curtains for you.


	9. Part Nine

The weeks passed slowly, each day you stole moments with Bucky and peeled a new layer back, revealing more of the man he used to be under the scars left behind by men and whispered words. He wasn’t the easiest to read but he tried, for you. You could tell he was still guarded, still kept parts of himself hidden from you and honestly, you didn't blame him. After everything he’s gone through, it’s a miracle he even manages a conversation, having gone that long without a real human connection. 

 

So you took it slow, never pushed him or pried too far, letting him talk when he wanted, happy to just spend time with him. Each night you take turns creeping into each others room, taking solace in the dark where expectations are low and comfort is sought. He confessed, in one of these moments, that you're the only thing that stops the nightmares. That one confession both shattered you and lit you up. 

 

Walking into the kitchen, you see Bucky lounging at the table with Sam and Tony making coffee in the corner. You scan the room quickly, careful not to linger on him too long but still notice the way his khaki green jumper pulls tight across the firmness of his chest, how his muscles ripple as he brings his cup to his lips, tongue darting out to lick a drop of juice from the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Morning boys.” You say as you quickly fumble through the fridge for food, ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes linger on your legs, clad in work-out shorts that were a little tighter than you were comfortable, but necessary for training. 

 

“I think you mean afternoon, sweetheart.” Sam replies as you thump into the seat next to him, already half way through the sandwich you found, “It’s 1 in the afternoon.”

 

“Bite me, birdboy.” That earns a laugh covered unsuccessfully by a cough from Bucky, who gets a glare from Sam for his efforts. He saves you his middle finger which only makes you smile wider, full mouth and all. 

 

“Can’t blame Y/N for her late morning, can we Y/N?” Tony pipes in from the counter he’s leaning against, the glint in his eye making your stomach tighten. Tony with that look was never a good thing. 

 

You shrug in response, taking another bite of the sandwich- and god, this was good- “Yeah, I mean, who can blame you when I saw you sneaking into your room at around 8am this morning.” He smirks at you, triumphant and a little devious, arching his eyebrow in question as your stomach freefalls from your body. You fight to control your face, slipping on a mask of calm and cool when it's nothing at all what your feeling. It’s every single ounce of will not to glance at Bucky.

 

“Damn, Y/N. You doing the walk of shame?” Sam asks and you ignore him. 

 

“What, you stalking me now?” You level Tony with a look, daring him to push this, “Sorry T, I’m just not into old men.” Insults, the only defence you have.

 

He laughs at that, muttering something about not being that much older and asshole as he took his coffee to go. Bucky’s eyes are dancing but his face is neutral, still amazes you how he can do that.

 

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Sam pushes, “Or girl, I don’t judge...Ow, c’mon.” He rubs the shoulder you just punched and laughs at the death stare you're giving him, “Fine. Fine. I’ll stop. It’ll come out eventually…” He lunges out the way of the next punch, your fist meeting air instead. When you met his eyes he grins and wags his eyebrows at you, you can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s just being Sam and honestly, this is just what it’s like living with these guys. They’re assholes, but ya know, your assholes. 

 

“Well if you're done giving me the 3rd degree, I’m gonna go get ready.” You roll your eyes and then allow yourself a glance at Bucky, “I’m sure Captain Hard-Ass will come looking for me soon to continue the torture, anyway.” 

 

As you walk away, you hear Sam immediately asking if Bucky knew who your secret bang buddy was. Shit. This wasn't going to go away easy. You hurry away to avoid hearing whatever answer Bucky was going to give. You’d both agreed keeping it a secret was right, doesn't mean you wanna hear him deny you. 

 

You make a quick stop at your room, grabbing your bag of gear and attempting to tame your hair into a ponytail of sorts. There’s a knock at the door and before you can make it over, Bucky slips in and levels you with a look that instantly sets you alight. He smiles at you, your smile, and slips his arms around you. It’ll never get old, the way he makes your heart race. The feel of him wrapped around you. 

 

“Heard you weren't into old men?” He says as his fingers graze down your spine and land on your ass, “That might be a problem for me, you see, I’m an old man.”

 

“Is that so?” You murmur, a smile pulling across your face, “Guess I’ll have to make an exception…” You trail off as your lips find his, mouth slanting with his in that perfect way they did, fire in your belly working its way up your spine and further. God, he owned you so completely. 

 

You lose yourself in the kiss, like you always do, running your hands up his thick, tight arms and landing in his hair. 

 

“Mmmfph, hey, I need to go.” You say against his lips

 

“Hmmm, I’m sure Steve won’t mind if you're a little late.” He soothes as his lips trail across your jaw.

 

A laugh escapes you, “You know he will, you little shit.” You push against him, knowing if you let him continue any further you won't leave your room at all, “It’s just a couple hours, wanna go have food later?” 

 

His eyes shutter, something closing off before you have time to see, “I, uh, I’ll meet you back here later. I have some stuff to take care of.” His voice wavers a little as he says it, but you don’t question it, even if you wanted to. He kisses you goodbye and agrees to meet you here after dark.

 

Your training session with Steve goes well, he’s impressed with how much you’ve improved the last few weeks and how much more focus you have. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking at that one, but wonder again if maybe he knows. Steve and Bucky were best friends after all. Steve tells you to go clean up and meet him back in the kitchen, promises of Pizza and beer making you shower and change in record time. When you make it down, Steve and Sam are already half way through the first pizza, of course there’s multiple, and sounding like they were gossiping. 

 

“C’mon, we know it’s true. Bucky didn’t even deny it.” You perk up at that, listening in without appearing like you were, grabbing a slice of pizza out the box and perching on a seat.

 

“We don’t know anything, Sam.” Steve has his ‘Dad voice’ out again. 

 

“The phone call was from ‘Julia’. Then he raced outta here like a man in need.” He wags his eyebrows at Steve who glances at you, brows knit together like he he’s worried, and the ways he’s directing it at you has you suddenly sure your earlier assumption was right. 

 

You had to ask, even if you didn't want to know, a sinking feeling pooling in your gut.

 

“Who’s Julia?” You ask, not looking up from the pizza, trying desperately to ignore the way your heart is thumping hard in your chest like it might escape at any moment. 

 

“Bucky’s date.”


	10. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter in the series, Y/N debates on how to handles the news that Bucky might be dating other people.

Bucky’s date. 

The phrase plays like a broken record, orbiting around your brain, waving it’s neon sign and tapping impatiently against your skull.

You fumble your way through dinner with Sam and Steve, fake smiles and slow blinks until you can escape to your room but even then, that doesn't help at all. He’s everywhere, the soft lingering scent of him on your sheets, the grey t-shirt you’d borrowed but never actually returned balled up on your bed from where you’d worn it last night, the knife sheath on your side table that contains his favorite knife, that phrase always making you smile despite yourself because of course he has a favorite knife. 

Logically, you know there’s a bountiful of reasons to explain Julia and most of them don’t contain the word date, but it’s there now, demanding attention until you’ve got them shacked up together and happy, 2.5 kiddies and leaving you in the dust. 

He always was really great at kissing, wasn’t he? Should a man who’s gone without a girl for damn near a lifetime be able to liquify your bones with his lips? A few years, yeah maybe it would easy to get back on that bike but 70? Shit. The nagging little voice that you buried a long time ago creeps in, whispers that maybe you're not good enough, maybe you're not enough to keep him. The voice birthed by teenage girls and high school rearing its ugly head in such a vehement fashion that you can’t help but listen. 

Now your pacing the room, burning holes in the carpet with your furious shuffling and mapping out your options in your head. He’ll come back here, you’d made those plans already when he’d avoided dinner with you for- yeah...so, it’s just a matter of if you’ll be here when he does. You could confront him, straight out ask him who Julia is but that feels a little too bunny-boiler-esque since you’d never given yourself a label and neither had he. And maybe, just maybe you were a smidge terrified of what he would say. Denial, denial. 

A thought pushes its way to the front, the one you’d been nervously skirting around and you finally give in. Feeling like a complete skeeve, you ask, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. who is Bucky’s friend, Julia?”

“Mr Barnes has flagged that as classified.” She answers, somehow conveying just how much the system is judging you for even asking. 

Your stomach was already half sunk, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s confirmation providing the final anchor that pits it to your toes. Seconding guessing now, you think over the weeks you’ve spent together, the touches, the looks, every second over analyzed now like you’ve tried not to do before. Did the tilt of his face mean more? Did the tightening of his mouth say more than words? Hopeless. And hopelessly hoping for more. 

Sleep evades, taunts you from the dark corners it’s hiding in, a nervous energy keeps your fingers twitching and tugging till you unhemmed the sleeves of your top and secured it’s place in the ruined-but-still-comfortable-so-PJ’s pile of clothes that’s always growing. Grabbing you gym bag from the corner, you head off to the gym to train some of the excess energy off and maybe, just maybe, come up with an idea on how to handle this whole mess. 

Thwack, thwack, thump. You keep a steady rhythm, jab, jab, cross. Sweat drips off you, soaking through the support top, slipping over the skin on your stomach and into the band of your shorts. It fuels you, the physical evidence of the effort provides some satisfaction to counteract the aching muscles and bloody knuckles your now sporting. You lost minutes to hours long ago, and somehow you were no further forward. Still lost to the thoughts, still unsure on how to proceed but mostly because the logical side of your brain was being constantly silenced by your denial. Hopeless.

“What did that bag ever do to you?” You flinch at the sound of his voice, catch yourself before you show it and search the room till you find him, tilted against wall, still enough to suggest he’s been there a while.

You grunt, not nothing but not an answer and continue, seeing him, knowing where he’s been, provides you with a renewed energy and your fists hit with a little more force. Each hit sounding off the walls and back at you. The hair on your neck stands to attention under his gaze, his eyes seeing too much and somehow not enough.

“You okay?” He asks, taking a few tentative steps towards you, wearing the smile, your smile, like he wasn’t out offering the same smile to other faces. 

It pushes you over the edge and Logical Brain wakes up, rattles around in the space and gives you something to use, “I...no. I don’t think I can do this.” The words drag out of you, shoved by the need to say it but stalled by the hope to want. 

“Do what?” He asks it but he knows, you can tell he knows and is making you say it.

You strip the wraps off your knuckles, wincing at the sight of the torn, bloody skin, “This…” you say, gesture between you, “Whatever this is.” Everything, you think, it’s everything. 

He nods, like he knew, nods and then tilts his head down, the angle shielding his face from you, drawing all the breath from your lungs at how final it suddenly seems. He says nothing for minute, then two, you imagine him mildly disappointed his booty call has grown a backbone or perhaps even relieved when he speaks, “I uh- I thought we were- I thought this was working?” 

There’s something about his tone, the way he says it, the hope the flares makes you angry, “Shit, Bucky. So did I.” He hears it, the infliction, the accusation in the last bit, finally hears what you're not saying. You turn your back to him, make your way to the bag and use the water bottle to rinse your hands off. 

“Wait, Y/N. What’s this really about?” He steps closer to you.

“I’m just…” You chew your words, thinking on how to explain that doesn’t remove every ounce of pride you have left, “I’m all in, okay? And you’re not.”

“I’m not?” His forehead creases, another step towards you and it’s too much.

“No, you’re not!. You have a Julia and I only had you.” You voice climbs higher with each word, more heat than you intended but it serves it’s purpose. You see it, see when it all clicks in his head, watch him sort through his thoughts till finds his place, looks you right in the eye and fucking smiles. Bastard. 

“Shit, doll, you had me worried.” He laughs like it’s no big deal, takes another few steps till he’s there, within touching distance, “Julia is not...that.” 

You roll your eyes at the non-explanation, turn your head from him and he reaches for you, tilts your head back to him, fingers gripping firm enough to keep you and not hurt you, “She’s my therapist, doll. That’s it.”

“Oh.” You blink up at him, slow blinks since all your brain power is hung up on therapist and the possibilities and then the guilt. The guilt that you let your version of him be derailed by gossip and insecurities, sorting through the possibility that you’d just placed a needless burden and significant spotlight on the less defined portion of the relationship. “I’m sor-”

A thumb over your mouth quickly halts the apology, Bucky shakes his head slightly, “No. I am. I know that I’m… I’m no good with words but if you honestly felt like there could be anyone other than you, well now, that’s on me, doll.” His fingers slip up your jaw, thumb dances along your cheek and the room sort of melts, the tension slides out of you, the relief of it all almost brings you to your knees. Your body moves on it owns, pushing forward till your pressed against him and his fingers have disappeared into your hairline, your lips land against his in a bruising sort of kiss, hungry and hopeful, both of you so filled up with relief and wanting that it hurts. When you break you realise you gripping his shirt tight, white-knuckled, pulling him as close as he can be and he’s doing the same. 

It’s bugging you though, that he even mentioned it, “You never told me…” you say, half whisper against his lips, still gripping him tight and close. 

He nods, face forms regret, “The stuff in here,” he pulls your hand over his heart and taps, “It ain’t easy listening.” He kisses you again, like he can’t help it, like even he’s surprised by it, “I didn’t wanna put that on you.” There he is, your Bucky, all pride and pain and protect. If you could take his pain for him, you would, but you’d have to settle on a shoulder each.

“Bucky…” You say, look him right in the eye, show him the extent of it all, “I’m all in.” Thick with feeling, and he knows. 

“I’m all in too, Y/N.” He say’s right back, and you know. 

This time, when he kisses you, you’re ready for it but you’re not. It’s a new kiss, a kiss that reaches deep into your bones, deep into the marrow and solidifies. It’s needy, and full, and permanent- edging on something more. The whole room turns into the feeling, your brain turns to mush and your body is floating, literally floating- the world tilting and wait-

“How did you find out? About Julia?, I mean.” He asks, breathy and low, giving you the opportunity to realise you are in his arms and half way up the stairs.   
“Uh- oh, Sam told me. Said you were on a date.” You throw him a wry smile.

“Of course it was that pigeon motherfucker. Always causing problems.” He says it so seriously you can’t help but laugh, tuck your forehead against his neck and just laugh. When you're done you don’t move, stay tucked in tight as Bucky takes you wherever he’s taking you and feel your heart do a dip when he kisses the top of your head. 

Later, when you're in bed and he’s tucked up behind you, arm slung over you with fingers mapping tight circles on your skin, he nuzzles into your neck and hair, still wet from your shared shower, “Do you want to come with me next week, to Julia? She said I should bring you.”

“I’d like that.” You turn to face him, slide your hand up till you cupping his face and press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He looks at you with that look, the one you finally understand and nudges his nose against you, “All in?”

You nod, “All in.”


End file.
